Falling
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: How do you fall out of love with one man and in love with another? More specifically, just how do you go from being George Weasley's girlfriend to falling in love with Neville Longbottom? OC warning.
1. Request

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter One: Request**

Author's Note: Couldn't leave it alone, sorry! To clarify, this is a companion piece, the prequel if you like, to _All the Time in the World_. Jemima Lupin is an OC, so if you don't like them, best to avoid this I think! You don't have to have read the other story to understand this one.

* * *

><p>Jemima heard him before she saw him. George Weasley seemed to walk louder than most people, jingling change in his pocket, his book bag thumping steadily against his hip. When Jem stuck her head round a bookshelf she was surprised when he caught sight of her and raised his hand as he came over, almost as if he had been looking for her in particular.<p>

"Thought I'd find you here. Neville said you were working on your Potions essay."

"Sssshhh," she said and beckoned him further down the narrow passage between the shelves, away from Madam Pince's sharp ears. She gazed at the books on a shelf above her head, more to prevent herself staring at him than anything else. "What were you looking for me for?"

"Charming," he replied, only just below his normal volume. "And here was me about to ask you to the Yule Ball."

The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach. Not in the way it did when Snape asked her a question she didn't know, but in a way that made her feel quite light-headed. Almost as though her feet didn't belong to her and she could float away at any moment. Of course, she had dreamed of this moment since Professor McGonagall had announced it in Transfiguration the other week, but only Neville Longbottom knew how intensely she had hoped George would be the one to ask her.

"If he doesn't," Neville had said, "I'll take you." He hadn't been able to meet her eye when he said it.

"You're joking," she said to George, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Is that your way of letting me down gently?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in a way that gave her a swooping feeling in her chest. He really did have lovely eyebrows.

"No," she said quickly, too quickly. "I just - why are you asking me?"

"'Cause it'll be a laugh with you."

That is precisely the reason that Neville would want to go with me, she thought. She returned her gaze to the bookshelves and didn't answer.

"Do I get an answer sometime this term?" he asked, leaning against the shelves and watching her closely.

"Go on then," she said and felt a smile tugging at her lips. After all, George had asked her to the Ball. Even if he only meant as friends, it was a start. And who knew what might happen if she did something pretty with her hair and steered him under some mistletoe? Kissing George Weasley had been Jem's main fantasy since somewhere between second and third year, when she decided that kissing probably wasn't quite as revolting as it looked.

"Great!" he grinned at her and she felt herself glow.

In an attempt to hide the grin that had fought its way across her face, she reached a hand up for a book, burying her face against her arm so she could smile freely.

"Here," he leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back. She had taken off her jumper and could feel his warmth through her shirt across her skin. His tie had loosened and dribbled down the back of her collar. He glanced at the book she had been reaching for and raised his eyebrows at her.

"I don't think there's need for any of that," he said, handing it to her with a wink.

She watched him go, then noticed in horror that she had been reaching for a book of love potions.

* * *

><p>She raced up the stairs to the fourth year boys' dormitory and burst in without knocking. Neville, who had been attempting to break his new shoes in and practice at the same time, had been waltzing between the beds and yelped as he jumped and cracked his knee against Seamus's bedpost.<p>

"Are you all right?" she asked, pushing him back on the bed and going to roll up his trouser leg.

"Yes!" he replied quickly and pushed her hands away. There was no way he wanted her seeing the thicket of hair that had recently sprouted on his legs. "You should've knocked! I could have been changing!"

He reddened at the very thought but she didn't seem to have really heard him. He noticed that she was dancing from foot to foot with suppressed excitement.

"Sorry! But I had to tell you! You'll never guess!"

"What?" he rubbed his knee and stood up, his new shoes clicking smartly on the floor.

She grabbed his hands and began to drag him around the room. He laughed as he slipped an arm around her waist and twirled her around. Turns out, he was rather a good dancer, despite his big feet and clumsiness.

"George Weasley has asked me to the Yule Ball!" she squealed.

He stumbled slightly over his own feet, suddenly aware of his ungainly limbs, his stooping height (oh, why had he waited so long to write to his Gran for new trousers?).

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"Yes! Which means that you don't have to take me, so you can ask someone else!"

He was dismayed by the look on her face, she clearly thought this was excellent news, that he had been waiting for the chance to ask someone else. She obviously had no idea that he'd been getting ever more hopeful, as the day drew nearer, that George might not ask her. Then he could take her and there's all sorts you can pluck up the courage to do when you can blame it on the mistletoe.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I hadn't really thought who..."

"We'll think of someone, don't worry!"

She took his hand from where it hung listlessly at his side and placed it firmly on her narrow waist. Then she placed her hand on his shoulder, took his other hand in hers and stepped close into his embrace.

"Er, Jem...?"

"I'm not very good at dancing," she said sheepishly. "You couldn't show me, could you?"


	2. Dance

**_Falling  
><em>Chapter Two: Dance**

Author's Note: I'm combining book and film Neville for the Yule Ball. One of my favourite elements of the fourth film was the way they developed Neville - I love that he was the first guy to get up for the dancing lessons, that he put the practice in and was the last one back to the dorm (Neville, you dirty stop out!). But JKR did say that Ginny winced when he stepped on her toes when they danced. So I'm mixing the two here.

* * *

><p>George and Jem spent most of the Ball in a group, consisting of Fred and Angelina and Neville and Ginny. They had all eaten together at one table, then danced together – Ginny pretended not to notice that whenever Neville gazed over her head at Jem and George, he stepped on her toes. But the heat had eventually got too much for them and while the others went in search of drinks, George quietly suggested to Jem that they go out into the grotto for some fresh air.<p>

Jem weaved her way through the students, clutching her dress robes close, and managed to get out onto the terrace. She was wearing her mother's old dress robes. A little dated, a little high in the neck, but otherwise they fitted well enough with a few alterations. They were made of thin velvet in palest moss green and she was utterly boiling in them. She was grateful for the outdoor chill because she was certain her face was an unattractive shade of puce. She undid the top lace of her robes and pulled her collar looser.

"You'll catch your death," George said, coming up behind her with two large glasses of pumpkin juice.

He put the glasses down on the back of a reindeer statue and reached out to tie up her lace again.

"You sound like my dad," she replied, pushing his hands away.

"Your father knows his stuff," George tied the lace in a neat little bow, but he didn't step back. "And you've put all your hair up..."

He touched her bare neck and she hoped he thought the goosebumps were due to the cold. She reached for her glass of juice and gulped noisily.

"Thirsty?"

She nodded mutely and he took the glass from her, setting it down beside his own on the reindeer's back. The blood roared in her ears and the neat little bow he had tied trembled ever so slightly with the thundering of her heart.

"There's a fairy in your hair," he murmured, fingertips brushing lightly over her ear and weaving into her hair.

She knew he was going to do it before he did, but she could still barely believe it when he put his lips on hers. He pulled away all too soon and when she opened her eyes she saw him looking upward, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Well," he said mildly. "I certainly can't blame that on mistletoe."

She giggled so hard she snorted.

"And _that_," he said, leaning in to kiss her again, properly this time, "is why I had to ask you and no one else."

"Shut up," she murmured as his lips touched hers.

When they went back inside, Neville and Ginny were talking and having a drink at the side of the dance floor. Ginny caught sight of them first and gave Neville a nudge with her elbow and a significant look as she nodded towards them. They were holding hands, but Neville found himself responding to the grin on Jem's face.

"Fancy a dance, Neville?" Jem asked. "Feel like I haven't seen you all night."

"Yeah. Ok."

He looked around for somewhere to put his glass but Ginny took it from him.

"Having a good time?" Jem asked, as they pushed onto the dance floor.

"Yeah. The Weird Sisters are great, aren't they?"

"I love them!"

The music slowed slightly and Jem automatically moved closer, putting one hand on his shoulder and reaching for his free hand. He didn't immediately respond and she pulled back.

"Sorry, of course you want to dance with Ginny."

"No!" he said quickly. "No. I'd like to dance with you please."

She stepped back into his arms and took the opportunity to whisper in his ear, "George asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him next time."

His heart plummeted into his shoes and he was glad she couldn't see his face, the crush of bodies obliging her to have pressed herself very close to him. Closer than in their practices.

He realised suddenly the meaning of the look that Ginny had shot him. He had somehow managed to forget that George and Jem were going to the ball _together_. Maybe because so little had changed. George still hung around with Fred and his sixth year friends, Jem still hung around with Neville and, after her first delighted outburst, seemed to have confined all her George talk to Hermione and Ginny. At the ball, Neville hadn't really noticed anything between Jem and George. But perhaps he had just been distracted by the sudden coolness of the company he was in and the fact that so far they had all laughed at his jokes.

"Oh?"

"I said I would for a bit, but that you and me always go to the Three Broomsticks before we come back to school."

"You don't have to..."

"Don't be daft, Nev, it's what we always do."

He grinned at this. She was still Jem. Still his best friend and not about to leave him in the lurch for an extended snogging session in Madam Puddifoots.

"You know," Jem said after a moment. "You dance much better than George."

* * *

><p>Madam Puddifoot's was the last place that Neville wanted to be. He would much rather be in Zonko's or Honeydukes, anywhere there was distraction. Anything other than the sight of George holding Jem's hand across a table. But Fred had caught up with him before he could dive into the joke shop and had frogmarched him up the road with an exasperated and disgusted, "You have <em>got<em> to see this."

"Doesn't it make you sick?" Fred sighed. "A day in Zonko's wasted over tea and cream cakes."

Of course, Neville didn't really agree. He would have given anything to have been in George's shoes, he would have traded all the nose-biting teapots and liquorice wands in the world for a chance. But he kept his response to a non-committal "Mmmm."

"Sorry, no offence," Fred said, not looking in the least bit troubled. "But it comes to something, doesn't it? When two blokes are abandoned by their brother and best friend just so they can coo over each other."

"We're going to the Three Broomsticks before we go back," Neville said.

Fred shot him a pitying look and Neville had to admit - it didn't really look like the happy couple were planning to leave anytime soon.

"I've had enough of this," Fred said. "I'm going in. You coming?"

"Er. No. No I think I'll wait here."

"Suit yourself," Fred shrugged and went in.

Neville watched through the window as Fred wandered through the cafe, apparently looking for an empty table. He did an exaggerated double-take when he drew level with Jem and George's table, then settled down beside them. Jem's hand shrank away from George's and curled in her lap and George appeared torn between annoyance and amusement. After a moment, Jem stood up. Neville could see Fred and George asking her to stay, but she smiled and shook her head. She headed for the door and Neville watched Fred take a roll of parchment out of his pocket, smoothing it out in front of George.

"Hello you."

He looked up and saw Jem had come out. She was straightening her cloak as she came over.

"All ready to head to the Three Broomsticks?" she asked and he breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to ask what he was doing, hanging around outside when there were plenty of other places he could be.

"Yeah, all right," he replied. Through the window he could see that Fred and George were huddled closer, discussing the content of the letter. George leaned back as Fred produced a quill and appeared to be searching his pockets for ink. He caught Jem's eye through the window and raised a hand before turning his attention back to the letter in front of him.

"Don't you mind?" Neville asked as they headed to the pub, indicating the twins with a jerk of his head.

"No," she shrugged. "Just the way things are. George has Fred and I have you."

* * *

><p>There was a tension in the crowd as they watched the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry and Cedric, or so the murmurs suggested, had disappeared. They had now been gone for almost an hour. Jem shivered slightly, despite the muggy warmth of the night and Neville instinctively shifted closer to her on one side while George, on her other side, threw an arm about her shoulders.<p>

"Harry didn't say there was an extra task, did he?" Jem asked, leaning over the chairs in front to talk to Hermione.

"No," replied Hermione shortly, not taking her eyes off the maze.

As Jem straightened up, she caught a look exchanged between Fred and George and raised her eyebrows in question. Fred nodded pointedly at the small huddle of teachers at the foot of the stands.

"Doesn't look planned, does it?" he said quietly.

She shuddered again and when she glanced at Neville she saw her own disquiet reflected in his face. She began to gnaw on her right thumbnail. There was a sudden movement and the teachers turned and hurried over to where two shadowy figures had landed out of nowhere.

"What is it?" Neville said, leaning out as far as he could. "Can you see?"

The rumours swept up the stands like shivers. _He's dead. Cedric Diggory. Cedric Diggory is dead_. As the words reached them she felt George's arm tighten on her shoulder. In the row in front, Ron and Hermione had already left their seats and were pushing their way out of the stands.

"Dead?" Neville repeated, his voice suddenly shrill. "How can he be dead?"

Fred and George had paled beneath their freckles. The sudden sobs and cries of other girls made Jem shudder.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked her, peering into her face. He was also white as a sheet and when he touched her arm she wasn't sure if it was him or her who was shaking.

Neville's question caught George's attention and he pulled her close, bundling her into his arms as he continued to stare down at the base of the maze to see what was going on. When they were herded out of the stands, she lost George in the crowd, his hand slipping out of hers. But Neville had pressed close to her and together they staggered through the wave of people and into the castle.

"Stop, just wait. Give me a minute," she slumped against a statue, drawing Neville out of the wave of people so they were both huddled against the wall. "I didn't even know him, never even spoke to him, but I... What's happened, Neville?"

"I don't know," he replied fretfully, twisting the sleeves of his robes in his hands.

She saw his agitation and pulled herself together.

"I'm sure Harry's all right. It'll just be an accident," she said bracingly and straightened up. "C'mere."

She hugged him tightly.

"We'll be all right," she whispered, suddenly aware that she could hear her name being called.

"Whatever it is, we'll be ok."

"There you are!" George was fighting against the crowd to get to her. "Come on, we have to get back to the common room."

She allowed George to pull here away, her hand darting out for Neville's, to pull him along in her wake.

* * *

><p>Jem and Neville joined the Weasley twins, Harry, Ron and Hermione towards the end of the train journey. She sat very close to George, but they didn't hold hands. Neither of them much fancied the teasing. Harry held Fred and George back when the train stopped at King's Cross, so she headed out onto the platform with the others. Her father was standing just a little apart from the Weasleys'. He appeared to have lost weight during the time she had been away at school and she noted a new thin patch in his jumper.<p>

He gave her a hug and then shook Neville's hand.

"I've been speaking to your Grandmother, Neville," he said and Neville looked suddenly wary. "She's happy for Jem to come and stay now, if you are?"

Neville grinned and nodded eagerly, but Jem narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" her hand went up to her mouth to start biting her nails, but Remus pressed her hand down again.

"I can't go into that here," he gave her a tight smile, a note of warning in his forced jovial tone. "Home with me for dinner tonight and then off to Neville's until August."

She studied in for a long moment and he gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he glanced at Neville, who looked a little hurt that she didn't seem thrilled.

"Great," she said, with pretend brightness. "What's for dinner? Oh, hang on. I've forgotten something. I'll just be a sec."

She darted away towards the Weasleys' where Mrs Weasley was hugging Harry. She grabbed George who was looking a little stunned and pulled him behind a pillar.

"I'm off to Neville's tomorrow for most of the summer. I don't know why yet. See you back at Hogwarts. You'll write?"

"Yes," he answered, somewhat dazedly.

"George? What's wrong?"

He gave himself a little shake and grinned, grabbing her suddenly about the waist to give her a squeeze that lifted her off her feet.

"Nothing at all! Yes, I'll write. Have fun. I'll see you soon."

As she made to leave he pulled her back for one last kiss. When she stepped out from behind the pillar, she saw her father speaking to Harry, one hand holding his shoulder. As she approached she caught the word "Snuffles." Her father glanced at her, then at George and then determinedly in the other direction. Augusta Longbottom had appeared and was fussing over Neville, reeling of a list of things he might have forgotten.

"... Books? Quills? Parchment? What about Trevor?"

He held up the toad and Augusta nodded, then caught sight of Jem.

"Well, we shall see you tomorrow morning, Jemima."

"Yes, Mrs Longbottom. Thank you for letting me come to stay."

With a regal nod at Remus, Augusta put an arm on Neville's shoulder and steered him to the exit. Neville looked back, smiling and waving, until he had to clap his other hand around Trevor. Jem waved them off, then turned to her father, who had hefted up her trunk.

"You do know that I'm not going anywhere tomorrow until I know what you're up to, don't you?"

He sighed and swung his free arm over her shoulder.

"I'll explain over dinner. And, ah, we have a visitor…"


	3. Becalmed

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter Three: Becalmed**

When Neville and Jemima came down for breakfast, they found Augusta Longbottom muttering darkly as she watched over a vat of porridge. They sat down at the kitchen table and exchanged wary looks. The porridge plopped sluggishly and as she turned away from the pot, they saw she was holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Yet more utter nonsense," she announced. "There's a piece in here about some fool saying he's invented a talking cauldron – apparently it tells you if you're about to add the wrong ingredient."

Neville looked interested and leaned forward to look at the article she was pointing at.

"As if it's not bad enough that they're publishing such claptrap, look there – 'Perhaps Harry Potter should take up inventing.' It's disgusting the way they're bullying that boy," she scrabbled through the kitchen drawer for parchment, quill and ink. "I've had enough. I'm cancelling my subscription."

"Cancelling?" Jem repeated.

"You heard me right, Jemima. I won't have such drivel in my house."

Having scraped their porridge into the bin when Mrs Longbottom wasn't looking, Neville and Jem went out into the garden, where Neville was cultivating his own patch. Jem crossed her legs and started looking up the plants in her book. While Herbology fascinated her, she tended to kill things where Neville made them thrive.

"Your Gran believes Harry then," Jem said after a moment.

Neville sat back on his heels and patted the earth off his hands.

"Yes. She says that if Dumbledore believes him, that's good enough for her. Besides, she always said that it wasn't over. She always thought You-Know-Who would be back."

"I think Dad did too, deep down. He just hoped otherwise. Are you scared?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

They looked at each other for a minute. You-Know-Who seemed a long way away on that bright morning, with the sun beating down so hard Jem had to squint to read. Jem turned when she heard her name being called. Mrs Longbottom was at the back door, a letter in her hand.

"It's your father," she called. "He says he's coming to pick you up this evening."

* * *

><p>Jem quite enjoyed her time in 12 Grimmauld Place, pointing out that all the cleaning was actually an excellent revision technique for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was even allowed, once or twice, into the twins' room to look at what they were making.<p>

"You know, this is actually really impressive," she said, looking at the range of sweets George had laid out on the bed to show her.

"You sound shocked," George said, a tone of reproach in his voice.

"I am shocked. Good shocked – this is better than I thought it would be. Far more organised. Your mum will go spare though, if she finds out what you're up to."

"Not going to tell her, are you?"

"Course not."

George raised his wand and the door clicked closed. They grinned at each other, before he pulled her close, almost into his lap and began to kiss her.

"I could Apparate into your room later," he murmured, edging his hand under her t-shirt.

"You mean the room I share with your little sister and Hermione?"

"Ah. Good point."

His hand was now resting lightly on her waist and as he met no resistance, he inched it up a little further, until his fingers brushed a tantalising edge of lace.

"We shouldn't…" she whispered.

"We're not _doing_ anything."

She made no further protest and leaned in again to kiss him. His fingers were just skimming the underside of her left breast when there was a squeak of floorboards. They leapt apart as the handle of the bedroom door turned with difficulty. Jem smoothed her top and George whisked the sweets back into their box.

Molly stuck her head in and narrowed her eyes.

"What have I told you two about keeping the door open?"

"Sorry, Mum. Must have been a draught."

"Mmmm," Molly didn't look convinced. "Jem, I've just heard from your father – he'll definitely be in for dinner tonight."

"Oh," Jem said, reddening. "That's good. Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

She gave them another penetrating look and left them to it, the door left wide open.

"Thank Merlin for stiff handles," George said.


	4. Twists

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter Four: Twists**

Author's Note: And now we're back to school… I'm trying to keep more to the books, as they have the most detail, Neville-wise. But I decided to go in this chapter with the film depiction of Fred and George leaving Hogwarts. It was just that bit more romantic and easier to adjust.

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron and Hermione noticed the small huddle by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room immediately. The others in the room had drawn away from the little group and were whispering amongst themselves, eyeing them warily.<p>

"It's disgusting," Angelina Johnson was saying fiercely. "Prejudice, that's what it is!"

In the centre of the group, with her feet tucked up on a squashy armchair, was Jem Lupin. She looked pale and stunned. George was sat on the arm of the chair, his arm about her shoulders, the knuckles of the arm gripping her upper arm were white and he was glaring into the fire. Neville stood on her other side, fists clenched on the top of the chair. Fred was perched on a footstool in front of them with Ginny at his side. Ginny was holding one of Jem's limp hands. Angelina Johnson was standing around them with Katie Bell, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione. "Jem? Are you all right?"

"Is it your dad?" Harry asked quickly.

This seemed to penetrate and Jem looked up at him, blinked and shook her head. She wasn't crying, but she reached up and rubbed her eyes anyway.

"No, it's not my dad," she said quietly, starting to chew a nail.

"It's Umbridge," George said tightly, not looking away from the fire.

"What's that old cow done now?" Ron asked George, who opened his mouth as though about to answer, but then he shook his head.

"She's said that Jem has to go to the hospital wing," Ginny explained quietly. "She has to go every full moon."

"Why?" Harry asked in a mystified tone.

"Because I'm a dangerous half-breed," Jem said bitterly.

George's hand on her shoulder twitched and Neville's clenched hands slipped off the back of the chair as he turned away.

"What?" Ron said. "What do you mean, half-breed?"

"Umbridge reckons that Jem's dangerous because Professor Lupin is a werewolf," Fred explained.

A small group of first years who had been standing very close and very still nearby in order to overhear began to shift away when they heard that.

"But that's rubbish!" spluttered Ron.

"Tell McGonagall," Hermione said. "She won't stand for it. She'll write to your father."

"Umbridge already has," Neville said quietly. "She had to inform him of the new regulation."

"And I bet she enjoyed it. I'm not writing to him as well," Jem said firmly. "He'll only think I'm upset about it."

"But you are," Ginny pointed out.

"He doesn't need to know that. If he thinks I'm miserable here he'll take me out of school and I'm not going anywhere. It's my OWL year!"

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, tilting his head at Hermione. But this announcement had caused a smile to twitch at the corner of George's lips and he finally looked away from the fire.

"No one says you have to stay there, though, do they?"

"What?"

"Me and Fred will come up and sneak you out. That'll show the old gargoyle!"

"No you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"So you're just going to take it, are you? Do whatever she says? Sit locked up in the hospital wing like some – some dangerous animal?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone standing around the chair.

"George," Neville said in a low warning tone, his eyes wide as he stared at Jem.

Jem had paled even further, her lips disappearing into a thin white line. Fred and Ginny exchanged a look and shuffled the footstool back as Jem's finger dropped from her mouth and her hands curled in her lap.

"I am not sneaking out of the hospital wing," she said in a low voice, trembling with fury. "I'm not getting Madam Pomfrey in trouble."

She pushed George's arm off her shoulder and stood up, raising her voice.

"Umbridge is looking for any excuse to expel me. Or she's hoping I'll leave and I won't give her the satisfaction. Because I am not ashamed of what I am. Or what my father is," she added, looking over at the eavesdropping first years. "So she can stick that in her pipe and smoke it!"

She grabbed her bag from the floor, shrugged George off again and started to leave. She paused by Harry's side and said in a quiet, dignified voice, "I'm sorry I won't be able to make the DA if it falls on a full moon."

"'S'all right," Harry muttered.

Jem nodded and stalked off to her dormitory. Hermione seemed to be wondering if she ought to go after her, but Neville caught her eye and shook his head.

"Best to let her calm down," he said.

In the silence that followed, Fred looked at George and sighed.

"Dangerous animal?" Fred shook his head. "Well, mate. You made a right pig's ear of that one."

* * *

><p>Bill, Fred, George and Jem were waiting for the lift back to Mr Weasley's ward when the others came over.<p>

"You lot look glum," Jem commented. "Where have you been?"

"We were trying to find a cup of tea," Ron muttered.

"Blimey, that bad, is it?" Bill said.

"We saw Neville," Harry said, looking pointedly at Jem.

She frowned and then her eyebrows shot up as it dawned on her what he was saying.

"The closed ward?" she asked quickly. "Oh no. Did he see you?"

"You _knew_?" Ron said.

George stared from Jem to the other three, clearly utterly mystified by what Jem might know.

"Of course I knew," she snapped. "I'm his best friend, aren't I? Did he see you?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a small voice. "I think he'd rather he hadn't though."

Jem hurried towards the stairs, tugging her hand sharply out of George's. Fred looked at him questioningly and George just shrugged.

"I'll try and catch up with him at reception. I'll wait for the rest of you down there," she paused, one hand on the stair rail and half turned back to them. "If any of you so much as smile about this, I'll hex you into next week."

"What was that about?" Fred asked. "Has Neville managed to get his head stuck up a turkey?"

Ginny scowled at him and as the lift arrived and Jem's footsteps faded, Harry explained in an undertone what they had seen.

Jem got to the reception before the Longbottoms' and was reading the notices when they stepped out of the lift.

"Jemima!" Mrs Longbottom exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing here? Is your father ill?"

"No, he's fine, Mrs Longbottom. It's Ron Weasley's dad, he had an accident. Dad and I are staying with the Weasleys' for Christmas so we've come along to visit," she caught Neville's eye. "Harry and the others said they saw you so I thought I'd come and say hello."

Mrs Longbottom shot them both a shrewd look and then starting to root through her handbag.

"Well, I'll leave you to wish each other a merry Christmas; I've got a donation to make."

Neville watched his grandmother march off to the welcome witch, her money bag rattling in her hand.

"If it helps, they didn't do it on purpose," Jem said. "They were looking for somewhere to have a cup of tea."

Neville shrugged, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. She heard a small rustle of paper.

"They weren't – I mean, they didn't think it was funny. I think they felt really bad."

"Don't want them to feel sorry for me," he muttered.

"I know. I think they felt worse about how it happened."

"S'pose they all know now. Fred and George too."

"I suppose so," Jem chewed a fingernail. "Sorry, Nev."

He shrugged again and there was a moment of awkward silence.

"Are they all right? Your mum and dad?"

"Same as usual," he pulled his hands out of his pockets and cast about for a change of subject. "How's Mr Weasley?"

"He's ok," she answered in a rush, the relief evident in her voice. "Apparently they've been using some Muggle methods on him and Mrs Weasley isn't too pleased. Did you get anything nice for Christmas? Thanks for my present by the way, I needed a new quill."

"I remember you saying. My Great Uncle Algie got me a book about Albanian water plants."

"Oh. I bet that's interesting."

"I wouldn't know. It's in Albanian."

Jem stared at him, then sniggered and before she knew it they were both laughing.

"Ah, well I see you've cheered up," Mrs Longbottom said with a faintly disapproving tone as she returned. "Please give my best to Mr Weasley, Jemima, and your father. Have a lovely Christmas. Come along, Neville. We must be in time for lunch."

"Merry Christmas, Neville!" Jem called and he looked back over his shoulder and shot her a small smile.

* * *

><p>Jem and Neville were chatting about Umbridge's homework, muttering mutinously about how boring it was, when Hermione took delivery of the <em>Daily Prophet<em>. Umbridge-bashing being their favourite pastime, neither of them noticed the effect the newspaper had on the three sat just a little further down the table.

When Neville realised he had forgotten his essay and rushed off to get it, Hermione took the opportunity to sidle up behind Jem, tap her on the shoulder and hand her the newspaper. She shook her head sadly as Jem unfolded it and stared at the front page.

Her eyes immediately alighted upon Dolohov, who had been among the gang who had wiped out her mother's family, the Blakes'. Then her eyes were drawn to the pictures on the bottom right of the page. Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I thought you – well, I thought you should know straight away."

"Right," Jem said croakily, folding the paper again and handing it back to Hermione. "Thanks. I've got to… I've got to go."

She caught up with Neville in the corridor outside Gryffindor tower. He was brandishing the roll of his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, but his face fell when he saw how white she was.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You all right?"

"There's been an escape," she said urgently. "From Azkaban."

"_What?_"

"Ten high security prisoners. Dolohov is one," her mouth twitched slight as she said and, recognising the name, Neville reached out and cupped her elbow. "Neville, the Lestranges have escaped too."

She met his eye then and watched the colour drain from his face. He took an unsteady step back and bumped into the wall. His hand slipped from her elbow and she stood, feeling slightly useless, as his head slumped and swung between his shoulders. She felt herself trembling and put her hand against the wall to steady herself before the trembling shook her legs out from under her.

"Neville?"

"When's the next DA meeting?" he asked hoarsely.

* * *

><p>The moment she heard the commotion in the Entrance Hall she knew it must be Fred and George. Force of habit meant that she blamed every crash and bang on them, but this time she'd had forewarning. George had hinted something that morning, had refused to say anymore though, not wanting to spoil the "surprise."<p>

Still, she couldn't quite believe the sheer amount of fireworks they had managed to cram into the school. Pushed by the tide of other students, she was swept along with them and saw the twins swooping through the showers of coloured sparks.

"Look out!" Neville said as George plummeted towards them.

George pulled up before he crashed into the floor, drawing gasps from the onlookers as he raced along, his toes inches from the floor. Realising what he was going to do at the very last moment, as Neville leapt out of the way, Jem put her arms out.

George caught her round the waist, pulled her onto the broom and immediately rocketed up to the ceiling. She tightened her arms about his neck and shifted back to a less precarious position.

"Good thing you didn't have a heavy lunch," he said. "I couldn't have managed that if you had."

"A romantic moment ruined in under three seconds," Jem commented. "A George Weasley record."

"Oh, you were hoping for romantic, were you?"

He pulled her closer, kissing her hard, she pulled away laughing and gasping for air. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was sparks.

"Let it never be said that I disappointed you."

"That is one thing you could never do."

"You'll be all right, won't you? With Umbridge and all that full moon stuff?"

"Course I will. You'd be amazed the amount of homework you can get through when you're locked up in the hospital wing."

"Swot."

"C'mon, George, put her down!" Fred called.

"See you in the summer?" he asked and she nodded.

He kissed her once more, so hard she barely noticed the plunge the broom took or the swooping sensation in her stomach. She hopped off the broom and staggered slightly. Neville put out his hand to steady her and George winked at him.

"Look after her for me, mate."

Still feeling slightly unsteady on her feet, which had nothing to do with her short, eventful broom ride, Jem could barely hear the cheers of the other students. When Professor Umbridge came over, squawking about detention for wanton behaviour and improper conduct, Jem was almost certain that she was in love with George Weasley.


	5. Spaces

_**Falling  
>C<strong>_**hapter Five: Spaces**

Author's Note: I decided not to include the Department of Mysteries, although it is alluded to, because I couldn't do it justice. Also, nothing different happens because Jem was there. She stuck by Neville, that's all.

* * *

><p>Remus perched on the end of Jem's bed, watching as Madam Pomfrey dabbed a thick purple paste over Jem's black eye. Jem was still cradling her hand against her chest, even though Madam Pomfrey had healed her broken wrist moments before.<p>

"There you are. This will clear that right up."

"Thank you, Poppy," Remus said softly as Madam Pomfrey bustled away to attend to Neville, who was stretched out on the opposite bed.

Jem lowered her gaze into her lap and Remus stretched out his hand, crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head up. The lines in his face were more pronounced, as though he had aged ten years in one evening.

"Chin up. You don't want that dripping all over your robes."

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said quietly.

He shifted up the bed and put an arm around her, pulling her close, mindless of the sludgy stain left on his robes by the purple potion.

"You're safe, that's the main thing."

"I meant," she wiped one side of her face on her sleeve. "I meant about Sirius. I'm really sorry, Dad."

He swallowed hard and sighed, kissing the top of her head. She put her arms around his waist and allowed him to rock her gently back and forth. The bed creaked beneath them.

"I'd like to tell Neville," she said after a moment.

"Tell Neville what?"

"About Sirius. I didn't tell him anything about the summer, just that we'd stayed with the Weasleys'. But he was really brave tonight and I think he should know. Especially about Sirius."

Remus pressed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he saw Neville touching his healed nose with an expression of wonder, before Madam Pomfrey batted his hands away so she could clean him up.

"All right," Remus said. "Yes. Perhaps you should."

* * *

><p>"… So Sirius was his godfather?"<p>

Jem toyed with the edge of Neville's sheet and nodded. She fidgeted, tucking her legs under her and edging back so that she could lean against the end of the bed.

"And he was there with you all summer?"

"I couldn't tell you, Neville," she burst out. "I wasn't allowed. The Order wanted everything kept secret."

"My parents were in the Order!"

Jem's eyes burnt with tiredness. The hospital wing was lit with the dull orange of sunrise, the lamps gradually dimming as the sunlight grew stronger. She wanted to curl up into bed and sleep for a year. But she couldn't stop thinking of Ron, with the brains tangled about his arms. Hermione, out cold on the floor. Neville, with blood gleaming on the front of his robes. And Sirius, tumbling backwards through the veil. He had stayed with her and Remus for a little while the previous summer. He had sat at the kitchen table with her and talked to her as her father transformed in the basement. It was the only time she had ever been in the house when her father changed.

"He taught me the rude version of God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs," she said miserably. Neville gaped at her and Jem shrugged. "He was Dad's friend, Neville."

Neville glanced down the room, to Madam Pomfrey's office. Dimly, he could see Remus Lupin leaning back against the desk, his head in his hand.

He felt the bed shift and when he looked back, Jem was struggling with the pocket of her robes. She clutched a short piece of splintered wood in one hand and from her pocket she finally produced another one. She lay the pieces before him.

"It's your dad's wand," she said. "I picked them up. I know it's broken, but I thought your Gran might…"

She trailed off, nibbling anxiously at her right thumb nail. The goop from her eye dripped onto her knee and as Neville reached out to prevent another blob dripping down her cheek, he thought his heart might burst.

* * *

><p>George was waiting on the platform, amongst the members of the Order and when Jem glimpsed him from the train window she giggled at the lurid green jacket he was wearing. He caught her eye and gave her a half-smile as they watched Harry leave with the Dursleys. He started to reach for her hand, but she didn't notice and went back to say goodbye to Neville, locking her arms tightly around his shoulders. George saw him blush, hands flailing for a moment before settling into a tentative pat on her bony back.<p>

Jem and George didn't get a chance to speak until they were back at Grimmauld Place. There was an awkward moment in the hallway as everyone registered the silence and the absence.

"There's just a few things we need to get," Molly said nervously. "Before we all go home."

"We're not staying here, are we, Dad?" Jem asked in undertone as they made their way down the hall.

"No," he said in an odd voice. "We just need to be certain that there's nothing here for Kreacher to…" he smiled weakly. "Anyway, you've left a pile of books in your old room; the drawers are still half full. Why don't you go and pack them up?"

She climbed the stairs to her old room but when she went in, she didn't go to the stack of things she had left behind – half empty bottles of ink, outgrown clothes and robes, a chewed quill and all her first and second year books – instead, she sank onto the bed. It groaned beneath her and she cradled her wrist in her hand, bending it and turning it about. Madam Pomfrey had done an excellent job.

There was a gentle tap at the door and George put his head in. He had taken off that ridiculous jacket and seemed uncertain as to whether or not he ought to smile at her, so that it sort of wobbled weakly across his face. She just stared blankly at him. She felt as if a gulf had opened between them. It gaped and yawned between them, the small bedroom suddenly felt huge, the door very far away from the bed.

"You all right?" he asked softly, stepping into the room and closing the door. "I was…. Well, I was worried. When I heard about what happened."

She nodded and he sat down beside her, his weight tipping her slightly against him.

"I'm all right," she said and her voice sounded rough and unlike her.

He reached out and took her hand.

"It just… made me realise how I felt about you."

He wasn't looking at her, just staring obstinately at the opposite wall. A dull red flush was creeping up his neck. She stared at him in amazement.

"What?" she asked

"Well, I… you know."

The flush had flooded his face and she was close enough to feel the heat of it. He suddenly felt very close, the distance between them evaporated and the Department of Mysteries seemed like a half-forgotten nightmare.

She leaned in that final half an inch and kissed his cheek. As she turned away he looked at her and she bent forwards again to kiss him. She didn't object when he placed his hand boldly on her left breast.

The bedroom door opened with a bang and they leapt apart.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT KEEPING THE DOOR OPEN?" Molly yelled, as she ascended the last few stairs, just in time to find them innocently sorting through Jem's possessions.


	6. Grown Ups

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter Six: Grown Ups**

Author's Note: Teenage naughtiness abounds. In this chapter, Jem is almost 17 and George is around 19. So yes, they're young, but I think we can safely say that they're not the first teenagers to fall into bed together. I mean, look at Lily and James!

* * *

><p>The light that filtered through the Leaky Cauldron curtains was tinged a sickly sort of yellow by the curtains and the thin shadows they cast danced across the ceiling. It was a sweltering day and George had reached up to shove the window above their bed open. Jem had taken the opportunity to pull the sheets up, but he had slumped down beside her before she had chance to tug them up to her chin.<p>

It wasn't that she regretted it. She had been ready; he hadn't pressured her into it or anything. It was just... weird. Now that they were lying side by side she was uncomfortably aware of her nakedness and embarrassed by his. She wouldn't let herself think of anything that happened in the last half an hour because she thought that if she did she would spontaneously combust.

It cannot have been her that pulled his shirt off with such force that three buttons had sprung off. And she is certain that she didn't say "Don't stop" out loud.

George rolled over suddenly and kissed her shoulder.

"You," he said, with barely suppressed delight. "_You _are bloody brilliant."

"Oh shut up," she replied and nudged him.

"Make me," he kissed her and despite her better judgement, her body responded. She would be seventeen in November; she had faced Death Eaters only a month before and in the tangle of sheets, with her boyfriend's tongue in her mouth she felt very grown up.

She had been working at the shop since the second week of the summer, her father having agreed on the condition that she was home every day by 4 o'clock. She still felt guilty for playing on his grieving distraction to get him to agree to it. It had obviously not occurred to him to be more worried about such unsupervised proximity to George Weasley than about Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But then as far as Remus Lupin was concerned, she was still just a little girl and she knew that his mind had been far away lately, in the Department of Mysteries.

It was strange to be spending so much time together outside of school and without their parents breathing down their necks. Molly had watched them like a hawk last summer in Grimmauld Place, but here they were almost drunk with their freedom. But it had been her suggestion that he might want to book a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Having decided that she was ready - or, more accurately that she couldn't wait anymore - she was not about to sleep with George in the room adjoining his brother's, with half the customers of Diagon Alley trooping in and out of the shop below.

Not that the Leaky Cauldron was any more romantic.

He twitched the sheet down as he kissed her, then pushed it off completely as he rolled her towards him. With her eyes shut she could pretend that she wasn't completely naked, but then he drew away and stared at her body so hotly that she squirmed under his frank gaze.

He reached over to the bedside table and she was relieved that he had finally stopped staring at her. Flattered as she was by how much he seemed to like her body, she couldn't help but wish he'd tone it down just a little. It was all a bit too much for a first time. He was looking at his watch with a calculating expression.

"Think we've another -"

There was a thunder of knocking on the door.

"Housekeeping!"

George leapt to his feet; Jem snatched the sheets up tightly around her as she sat up. She giggled as he looked around wildly then grabbed a pillow to cover himself with.

"We'll be out in ten minutes!" he called in a strangled voice.

They heard the witch and her cleaning trolley trundle away.

"George Weasley," Jem snorted with good-natured laughter. "Man of the world."

* * *

><p>It was almost time to go home. She knew that George had been half-hoping she'd slope upstairs with him, but she didn't. It wasn't that she didn't want to or that she regretted doing it in the first place. It's just - different now. She felt a little awkward around him now that he had seen her naked. So when Fred handed over her wages that afternoon she waved the little pouch at George and called, "Chips after work, on me!" To his credit, he quickly masked the look of disappointment and she pretended not to have noticed it.<p>

They shared an open cone of chips on a bench outside Florean Fortescue's boarded-up ice cream parlour. She leant her head back against the wall and looked up at the clouds drifting lazily above them. George munched away quite happily. Leaning forward made his t-shirt stretch across his broad shoulders and there was a slight gap of skin between the ends of his hair and his collar. The back of his next was intensely freckled. So was everywhere else, for that matter. She felt her cheeks prickle at the thought and dragged her eyes away. He sighed and leant back, licking salt and vinegar off his fingers.

"Chips. The food of kings!"

She snorted and reached into the cone for a chip. She liked the small, crunchy ones best and scooped up a small handful from the bottom of the bag. He put an arm about her shoulders and she pulled her feet up onto the bench and slid closer to him. When she finished, she wiped her hands on his jeans and laughed when he tried to push her off. Then he grabbed her close again and kissed her.

She really did fancy him like mad, always had done. She cringed sometimes when she thought of just how cheeky she had been to him in first and second year, so that he wouldn't realise that she thought he was the bee's knees. Only Neville ever knew how happy she was when George asked her to the Yule Ball.

George wasn't much taller than her, shorter than his younger brother Ron and even Neville had outgrown him. But he was deliciously broad. Lovely chunky shoulders, and he tended to wear jeans that hugged his backside in a way that made her mind go foggy. When he touched her she became quite reckless. Before - well, you know, just _before _- she had genuinely thought she would jump him in the shop, for all of Diagon Alley to see if he kept on touching her all the time. When he kissed her, he touched the back of her neck, gently stroking the downy hair that curled there. As he did so, she thought that maybe she would rather be up in the flat with him, than down here.

"You're really happy here, aren't you?" she said, when they pulled apart. She laid her hand daringly at the top of his thigh as she spoke.

"Yeah," he carefully avoided her eyes as he asked, "Think you could be?"

"What do you mean?"

He looked a little awkward, then shrugged.

"You know, when you've finished school. You could come and... stay."

"Yeah, Fred'd love that."

"He wouldn't mind."

"Maybe," she started playing with the hem of her robes. This was unchartered territory for them. "I might not be around much when I finish school though."

"Why? Where you going?"

"Thought I might, y'know, go travelling."

"Where?"

"I haven't worked that out yet."

"Do you think you try and be a little more vague?"

She squirmed slightly. They had never discussed the future, but she hadn't been surprised when he and Fred opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was like she always knew that that's what he would do. But she was beginning to get a little annoyed that he showed no interest in what she planned to do when she left school. What she wanted to do was her most cherished ambition and now that they had been together almost two years and they had slept together, she thought it was time to open up to him about it.

"Well, I have to do the research first."

"Research? You sound like Hermione. It's a holiday, Jem! I could come too. Preferably somewhere hot. I'll get you a Muggle bikini."

He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"It's not a holiday. And I don't think it would be wise to study werewolves in a bikini."

She wasn't sure how she expected him to react, but she certainly hadn't thought that he'd lean back and close his eyes. The only other time she saw a similar expression of ecstasy on his face was after the first bite of Hogwarts roast chicken.

"Hang on. You'll have to give me a minute. I just want to picture that. You. A bikini. Lots of werewolves. Hey, will you wear those dragon skin boots of yours with it?"

"You are such a pervert, George Weasley."

"Only over you."

He sneaked a hand over her knee, but she batted him away. Then she turned and looked at him earnestly.

"This is actually serious. I've just told you I'm off to God knows where to study werewolves and all you can think about is whether or not I'll be wearing a bikini and boots to do it!"

"You've got to admit, that's a pretty striking image."

She elbowed him hard in the ribs and he yelped. He held his hands up, placed them deliberately on his knees and straightened his face.

"Right. I'm listening. Seriously."

"It's not like - it's just - what I always wanted to do. I know there's Belby's Wolfsbane Potion, but there's got to be more than that. So I want to..."

"Find the cure?"

"Sounds stupid when you say it like that. But, yeah. Besides werewolves are my specialist subject."

He started nuzzling her neck and growled, low in his throat. She felt a frisson, low in her abdomen when he did it, but she was so annoyed when she looked down and saw him grinning up at her that she shrugged him off.

"Honestly, George. Do you laugh about _everything_?"

"I try."

Irritation rose with quick, sudden force and she squirmed away from him and stood up.

"What?" he stared at her, utterly mystified.

"He's my _dad_, you tit," she hissed. "I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow."

He caught up with her, but didn't dare try to untangle her folded arms and take her hand as they walked back to the shop. She let him hug her goodbye, but didn't kiss him before ducking into the fireplace and disappearing in a rush of green flames.

Her father was at the kitchen table and she could tell by how intently he is staring at the book in front of him that only seconds before he had been staring at the fireplace.

"You're back late," he commented. "We did discuss this, Jemima. I let you have the job on the condition that you would -"

"Be home by four," she finished sulkily. "And I am! It's barely five past, Dad!" She noted his frown and made a concerted effort to shake her bad mood, dropping a quick kiss on his head. "Sorry. Sorry, I know you worry. Cup of tea?"

He nodded, but she felt his eyes following her across the room.

"This came for you," he said, as she sat down with two cups of tea. "I think it's from Neville."

She couldn't help the grin that ignited on her face when he handed her the letter. She recognised Neville's rounded handwriting immediately and was pleased to find that it felt thick between her fingers. A nice long letter.

"Yes. I thought that would put a smile on your face," her father remarked, hiding his smile in his teacup.

* * *

><p>Neville hadn't seen Jem for almost two months. She was working at Diagon Alley and, as his Gran had pointed out, she wanted to spend time with her father. These days you made the most of every minute. Still, he couldn't help but feel morose and was only cheered up by her letters. He wondered if he was imagining it, but she seemed to mention George less and less these days, despite working with him.<p>

In her last letter she had asked if she could come and stay for the last two weeks of the summer. She had finished at the shop and her father wanted her somewhere safe while he went away. She didn't say why he was going away or where to, but he sensed that she was not happy about it.

When she stepped out of the fireplace, he stared at her while she brushed soot off of her clothes. For a moment he thought she was taller, but actually it was just the dragon skin boots on her feet. He recognised them as her mother's. They had spent a day, the summer before their fourth year, going through old storage boxes of her mother's clothes because her father had said she would be able to find some dress robes. They had found the boots, clunky and heavy and barely worn. Jem had loved them. It appeared she had now grown into them.

She had cut her hair too, so that it no longer hung straight down in her back but fell in softer waves about her shoulders. She bore no signs of the injuries she sustained at the Department of Mysteries; Madam Pomfrey had healed her broken wrist in an instant. She seemed more self-possessed somehow, holding herself slightly differently, though that could have been the boots or the haircut.

Jem didn't have the time Neville had to look. Once she straightened up she stepped right up to him and hugged him, noting as she did so that he had grown in two months and had lost a little weight. His hair, she noticed, had not yet had its pre-school trim and curled about his ears, given him a slightly elfin appearance.

She leaned back and he went crossed eyed trying to look at her as she studied his nose. She tapped his nose and smiled.

"It really did heal all right then?"

"Yep."

As he bent to get her trunk, she noticed that his shirt rode up his back, revealing an inch of bare, pale skin. She saw the vulnerable ridges of his spine and had a sudden urge to touch them. But he straightened up, leaning on her trunk and she blinked. What was _that?_ she wondered. He was grinning at her, looking so pleased to see her that she felt a rush of tenderness for him.

"Oh Nev, I've missed you!"

She hugged him tightly again and murmured in his ear, "Knew you'd get an O in Herbology."


	7. Crossed

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter 7: Crossed**

Despite Snape, Potions had always been one of Jem's favourite lessons. Stressful, crushing and mortifying though they could be, she found the theory fascinating. And she loved the hands on nature of it, in much the same way Neville appreciated getting his hands dirty in Herbology. But she was delighted that Snape was no longer teaching and stared in excitement at the potions dotted around the room.

Jem never attempted to compete with Hermione when it came to answering the teacher's questions. She could never get her hand up quick enough. Jem noticed that Hermione glanced at Ron when she stopped describing what she could smell in the Amortentia. Jem smiled – Hermione and Ron seemed the only two people in Hogwarts who didn't know they were made for each other.

She leaned closer to the potion, trying to untangle what she could smell. There was chocolate, rich, warm and molten – just like Honeydukes best, her favourite. Then there was a dusty leathery smell that she realised was books – more specifically, her father's books which were generally ancient and second hand. The last scent was harder to place. It was a little like earth after rainfall, fresh, sharp. It was intensely familiar, but she couldn't place it. She thought perhaps she might have smelt it at the shop or in Fred and George's room at Grimmauld Place when they were experimenting.

When she met Neville later to walk down to Herbology, she was so stunned by Harry outperforming both her and Hermione, that she had forgotten what she smelt in the Amortentia.

* * *

><p>Jem and Remus were again invited to the Weasleys' for Christmas, this time at the Burrow rather than at Grimmauld Place. Remus was quieter than usual, something which had put Jem on edge. She kept her eyes on him throughout the day, but couldn't work out what was wrong. She wanted to put it down to the werewolves; she knew he loathed having to work among them. But there was something else, she was certain of it. Something that had made him retreat into himself, all moody and thoughtful. She wondered if he was still brooding about Sirius.<p>

On Christmas Eve, as they waited for the broadcast by Celestina Warbeck, George plonked himself down by Jem, but didn't even give Jem's knee a secret squeeze. When Remus addressed him, he blushed and tried to draw everyone else into the conversation. Once the broadcast started, they decided to go out for some fresh air - "Just round the garden, mind!" Molly had called as they pulled on hats and scarves - and George began to snigger as soon as the back door swung shut.

"Bloody hell, that was weird!"

They leaned on the garden fence. From there, they could hear the crackling of the radio, then a sudden blare of music before it was turned down and settled to a dull murmur.

"Thanks for having us," Jem said after a moment. "It's been really nice."

"Yeah. Wouldn't have seen you till the next Hogsmeade visit otherwise. Torture!"

"Idiot," she said, giving his arm a nudge.

"It's true. I mean, we haven't seen much of each other, have we? I couldn't get away from the shop last time you were in Hogsmeade and I know I don't write much… I'm just so -"

"Busy. I know. I'm busy too, with the NEWTs. I don't mind."

"You know you miss me. Bet you hug your pillow at night, pretending it's me."

"You wish!"

"Aha! You didn't deny it! _Oh George, I miss you so much. Kiss me, my darling!_"

"I dread to think what you do when _you're _missing _me_. And I've _never _called you darling!"

He grabbed her round the waist and twirled her round. She squealed and muffled it in her scarf so as not to draw attention. With her father had such an odd mood, the last thing she wanted was to be caught mucking about with George. When he put her down she scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at his head. A short, furious snowball fight ensued, until he managed to pull her round the side of the broom shed. Despite the cold she didn't protest when he slipped his hands up under her coat and jumper to put his hands around her waist.

"Argh! Your hands are freezing, gerroff!"

"C'mere, my gorgeous little werewolf hunter."

"Not funny, George."

"That's what you're going to be though, isn't it? Sounds so much cooler than 'Field Researcher' or whatever else the Ministry would call it."

She wriggled free of him and straightened her clothes.

"You know that I'm not doing it to be cool. It's because I want to help my Dad. He's been so miserable lately..."

"You don't half get narky when this werewolf thing comes up, you know."

"No, I _don't!_"

"You do. You're doing it now!"

"Only because you keep taking the mick!"

"It's just a joke. God, Jem!"

"Well, you might think it's a joke, but it's not for me. I'm already third in Potions. _Third!_"

George blinked and put his hand up to ruffle snow out of it. He stared at her, flummoxed.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I've got to be at least halfway decent at Potions to stand a chance with this research."

"Who's first and second?"

"Hermione's second. Harry's top."

"You're joking? Blimey, Jem, if Harry's beating you at Potions, you've got no chance!"

He knew the moment he said it that it was totally the wrong thing to say. She shoved him away so hard he almost tumbled backwards.

"Oh, bloody - Jem! I didn't mean it, Jem!"

But by the time he got back into the kitchen, Jem had already squeezed onto the sofa beside Bill, Fleur and Ron. His mother was hanging her hat and gloves in front of the fire. Jem had spread a sheet of parchment on her knees and was writing. Probably writing to Neville, George thought gloomily, sinking down on the floor beside Fred and Ginny, who were playing Exploding Snap. Molly observed their sudden frostiness, glanced at Remus who was had finished talking to Harry and was once more gazing into the fire, and raised her eyebrows in a way that said quite eloquently "_Men!_"


	8. Desire

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter Eight: Desire**

Jem had been in a grim mood since the Hogsmeade visit was cancelled. Neville knew she had written to George, asking him to meet her there. They hadn't seen each other since Christmas and George was a notoriously poor correspondent, so Neville supposed she was missing him. In the end it was Ron's poisoning that shook her out of her uncharacteristically quiet mood and Madam Pince asked them to leave the library as she had already told them three times to be quiet.

To Neville's great surprise, they bumped into George outside of the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

"What are you doing here?" Neville asked.

George raised his eyebrows at him.

"Ron," he replied simply. "We were in Hogsmeade when we heard."

Neville blushed at his own rudeness and looked nervously from Jem to George. The Fat Lady was drumming her fingers impatiently.

"Is he all right?"

"He will be. Thanks to Harry," George looked warily at Jem. "Fancy a walk?"

Neville backed away immediately, muttering something about an essay. Jem watched him clamber through the portrait hole with a slightly morose expression. There was an awkward moment, before Jem gave herself a slight shake and hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder as she stepped forward. She gave George a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Will Ron really be all right?" she asked, an edge of false brightness in her voice.

"Yeah," he took her hand and together they headed down the corridor to the staircase. "Listen, I'm sorry we didn't make up properly before you left after Christmas. I was a pillock."

"No, you weren't. You were just... you."

"Er. Right. Well, that's a backhanded compliment if every I heard one."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," she smiled tightly.

There was another awkward silence which lengthened as they both realised that they had never actually experienced one together before. They had reached the entrance hall and paused for Jem to dig her cloak out of her bag. George pushed the door open to let her out first. She drew her cloak around her against the fierce wind and he slung his arm about her shoulders.

"You wrote to say you wanted to see me," George commented. "Anything up?"

"No," she said, too quickly. "Nothing at all. Just wanted to see you, that's all."

"You weren't planning to dump me then?" George asked. His face had tightened and he was determinedly not looking at her.

"Don't be silly!" she replied, but she had flushed a guilty red and her shoulders had stiffened.

"Ron's going to be all right, you know," he said with surprising gentleness, withdrawing his arm from about her shoulder. "So if you've got something to say, just say it."

They were almost at Hagrid's house and she stopped walking. She tucked her hands into her pockets and hunched her shoulders.

"It's not really... working. Is it? Anymore, I mean. I'm at school and I've got my NEWTs coming up. You're working hard at Wheezes..."

He stared at her hard for a moment without blinking, then turned his gaze back towards Hagrid's, apparently admiring his vegetable patch.

"So you are dumping me. You just felt bad about doing it after what happened with Ron."

"No! I mean... Dumping is such a horrible..." she felt her cheeks prickle suddenly, an uncomfortable tightening starting in her throat.

"Is it because - I mean, in the summer," he was staring resolutely at Hagrid's vegetable patch. "I didn't want to pressure you into it or anything like that."

"You couldn't have pressured me if you tried," he looked back at her and they shared a brief smile. "It's not that."

"So is there someone else?" he asked tightly and she could see his fists bunching up at his sides.

"George, what do you take me for? No, of course there isn't someone else!"

"So you've not finally decided to run off with Neville then?" he was frowning, but there was a slight twitch at his lips at the suggestion and she felt irritation swell up in her chest.

"Oh shut up."

They stood in silence for a moment until she pushed hair back from her face in a sharp, agitated gesture.

"See that's just it, George. Not everything is a joke. We're living in really dangerous times and things are probably going to get worse before they get better. And you -"

"You thought U-NO-POO was hilarious. As I recall you laughed so hard you knocked over that cage of Pygmy Puffs."

"It was. It was _brilliant_. But sometimes I just want to talk, not joke. Talk. I've never told you how scared I am. Especially after the Department of Mysteries and –" she stopped and swallowed hard, gathering herself. "I knew that I couldn't talk to you about that, you have no idea how _terrified_ I was. Talking is really important. I mean, it's become more important to me."

"You never said."

"I did try. You didn't notice."

There was another long silence. George wondered if he should just go, but it didn't feel finished. He had been worried about this, if he was honest. There had been something in the note she sent him that made him think that this was not the sort of visit that was going to involve a cosy cup of tea in Madam Puddifoots.

And things had changed; he had noticed that at Christmas. There was suddenly far too much space between them.

"Do you think - I mean, could we still be friends, maybe?"

He looked up at her and she was looking at him with a tentative half-smile on her face.

He remembered, for some reason, the look on his mother's face when Fred had told her that he was going out with Jem. You could have knocked her down with a feather. He'd lost count of how many times she had commented on what an odd couple they seemed. Perhaps their luck had finally run out and neither of them was really to blame for that. And he didn't really fancy being stuck at home while she went gallivanting off after werewolves. She'd probably only end up dragging Neville along too.

"S'pose so," he said, shrugging, for all the world as though it didn't matter either way to him.

She beamed at him, but there was a sort of tightness about her cheeks. His own cheeks hurt, as though tired of being so polite. He turned back to the school and she took a step forward, half raising her arms as though she was going to hug him, then thought better of it.

"Um. Thanks, George. I know the timing's terrible…"

"That's all right. Not your fault what happened to Ron."

"Right. But, still. Thanks… I'm going to head back," she fidgeted with her bag and he noted with detachment that her teeth had started to chatter. "Coming?"

"No, I need some fresh air. I hate the hospital wing."

"I'll see you then."

"Yeah."

She smiled weakly and hurried away, practically running in her determination to get away as quickly as possible. George watched her go, breathing hard, as though winded. To his horror he felt tears prickling along his lower eyelids and blinked hard. It was for the best, after all. But that didn't stop him from kicking a tree stump before he headed slowly back to the school to say goodbye to Ron. He wouldn't tell his mother yet.

* * *

><p>Neville knew the moment he saw her face when she came back to the common room that something terrible had happened. His first thought was that maybe something had happened to her father. But it was highly unlikely; she had been for a walk with George. A teacher would have delivered truly bad news.<p>

She sank down on the floor beside his chair, warming her hands before the fire. She was very pale and her eyes were strangely bright.

"How's George?" he asked.

She busied herself with her cloak, unfastening it slowly and wriggling out of it before she answered.

"We broke up actually."

Neville put his quill down and stared at her, but she didn't look at him. Elation swelled suddenly in his chest and leprechauns seemed to have started tap dancing in his belly. But, looking at the pale and pinched expression on her face, he felt suddenly ashamed. She had adored George, after all. She shrugged and sank back against his chair, her right ear brushing against his knee. She began to gnaw at her thumbnail. She hadn't bitten her nails in years, he realised suddenly.

"Why?"

"It wasn't working out."

He put his hand on her shoulder and for a moment, as she remained rigid, felt a bit of a fool. Then she sank suddenly against him, leaning her face against his leg and closing her eyes. He leaned lower and slipped an arm about her shoulders, squeezing gently.

She pulled free too soon; smiling at him in a forced way that made her lips thin and pale. She made some vague excuse about homework and reading to catch up on and hurried to her dormitory. She had left her bag, full of books and all of her homework, on the floor at his feet.

* * *

><p>As the last traces of winter finally withered away, Jem found herself staring at Neville an awful lot. She noticed suddenly the kink in his hair, the endearing goofiness of his swift and sudden smile. She was bewildered by how aware she suddenly was of his body. Squeezing down packed corridors together, she found herself muttering "Sorry" every time she bumped against him. When her quill fell from the table in Transfiguration and they both bent for it she was uncomfortably aware of the closeness of his face to hers, then the awkwardness of them both fumbling for the quill.<p>

"When you two have quite finished," Professor McGonagall had said and they had emerged, crimson with embarrassment to the sniggers of the class.

When they walked together she sometimes found her hand halfway to reaching for his. It now seemed the most natural thing in the world to take his hand.

And sitting on the sofa together in the common room had become painful - she hunched at the opposite end to him because she was certain that if she let her guard down she would find herself snuggling up against him. It now seemed ridiculous not to be curled up under his arm.

But it didn't actually occur to her what all that was about until May. She had managed to convince herself that this nonsense with Neville was all to do with not being with George. She wasn't used to being single, physical affection had become habit for her, that's all. But then Neville bounded into the library and slid into the seat next to hers.

"Professor Sprout just said she's taking delivery of a Venomous Verbena tomorrow afternoon and she'd like me to help!"

The delight on his face made him look – not handsome, Neville wasn't chiselled enough to be classically handsome – but... Gorgeous. The word popped into her head without prompting, but it was a warm, soft sort of word that seemed appropriate. His eyes crinkled at the edges and his fringe flopped over his face. She wasn't sure when, but he had lost the tentativeness in his smile. His excitement was adorable. There was such warmth about him; he exuded a kindness that made her want to snuggle up against him, she was suddenly filled with an aching longing to be held by him.

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She wanted to know if his lips really were as soft as they looked, wondered how warm he would taste, where he would place his hands, the expression on his face afterwards.

Thankfully he stood up, apparently he hadn't noticed the look on her face or the fact she hadn't answered.

"I'm going to look them up, make sure I'm prepared."

He was almost gone by the time she found her voice to call softly, "Well done!"

She sank back in her chair, her arms thick with goosebumps. A sensation, rather like pins and needles had swept down her body from her head to her feet and was just fizzling out of her toes. It didn't take her long to recognise it as desire.

"Oh."


	9. Debris

_**Falling  
><strong>_**Chapter Nine: Debris**

Jemima was doing a series of quick calculations in her head. Trying to figure out just how long the few drops of Felix Felicis would have lasted. But her mind was cluttered with images and the back of her shirt was slick and cold against her back.

She couldn't stop thinking of the moment she saw Neville fly through the air to smash into a wall. She had run over to him as the Death Eaters made their escape and skidded across the floor and then slipped over, right next to Bill Weasley. She couldn't seem to shake the memory Bill's tattered face. She had scrabbled to her feet, thinking wildly that if she had dittany, she could help him. She remembered the way the spells lit the night like fireworks, remembered her father also rebounded by the same curse that sent Neville crashing into the wall.

But she was not entirely sure how she got to the hospital wing. She remembered conjuring bandages to staunch the blood, remembered seeing Harry thunder past, pausing briefly to speak to Neville, who then sank back down on the floor, perfectly still. She remembered Ron and Ginny coming over. She wouldn't forget the look on their faces.

"Is Neville all right?" she asked.

Dimly, she heard the fight drawing away. Soon Professor McGongall, her dad and the rest of the Order would come to help. Ron was gibbering, but all she could make out was the repetition of Bill's name. Ginny sank to her knees, more out of shock than anything else. With a free hand, Jem stuffed some of the bandages at her.

"I don't know what else to do," she said weakly. Then, more fiercely, at Ron, "Ron! Please, for God's sake, _is Neville ok?"_

Ron looked at her stupidly for a moment, then nodded, hurried away to Neville.

"He's ok," Ron called over, getting up almost immediately to return to Bill. "Just knocked out."

Her hands grew sticky as the blood dried and there was a sickening metallic tang in the air. There was a tinny ringing in her ears and her mind kept up the constant chant of _He's ok. He's ok. He's ok. _She heard footsteps and her father grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back the moment he and McGonagall reached them. Her hands had hung limply before her as she watched McGonagall bend over Bill.

"I didn't know what to do," she said. "I didn't know! I didn't know what to do!"

He bundled her tightly into his arms and held her hard, but she struggled away almost immediately and ran over to Neville. Her shoes slipped as she ran. When the stretchers were conjured she held his hand all the way down to the hospital wing.

"Please don't die," she muttered, barely aware that she was crying, hot little tears splashing off onto her t-shirt. "Please don't die. Please don't die."

In the oily yellow of the lamps in the hospital wing, her father looked so pale that the scars on his face were livid. There was a new one on his chin that was so new it was still shiny, the flesh dented into it. She looked up when the Weasley family came in.

Neville began to stir and the relief sent the blood rushing to her head so fast that she thought she might faint.

"Nev? Are you all right, Neville?"

He blinked hard and struggled to sit up. Remus put out a hand to stop him.

"You've been concussed, Neville. Sit back and rest."

But Neville forced himself upright, raking his eyes over Jem from top to toe.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm all right, it's not mine..."

He turned a little green when he saw the blood, but he followed Remus and Jem's gaze and saw Bill lying on the bed opposite.

"Greyback," Jemima said shortly and if anything, he turned even more green.

She sat on the end of his bed and put her hand over his. Though his body was aching and his head felt like it was cracked in two, he was suddenly very aware of his left hand. It was like all the blood in his body had rushed to that point where their skin was touching. Through a sleepy fog, he curled his fingers about hers.

When Harry came in with Ginny, Jem was still sitting on Neville's bed, her hand in his, thought he had fallen asleep.

"Ron," Ginny said. "Dumbledore's dead."

Jem stood up so quickly the blood rushed to her head. Remus cried "No!" and sank into the chair beside Bill's bed. Jem hurried over and put her hand on his shoulder, he was trembling. When Harry said Snape had done it, Jem felt suddenly sick and her father's face had hardened. She glanced over at Neville who was still asleep; she would have to be the one to tell him this.

Remus stood up and pressed her into the vacated chair and she said silent, stunned, as the story of what had happened that night emerged. When her father mentioned that he had narrowly dodged a killing curse, she shuddered and pressed her hand over her mouth, realising as she did so that her face was sticky with tears.

When Tonks seized Remus's robes, her eyes widened. It seemed that due to her uncharacteristic silence, everyone had forgotten that Jem was there, hunched in the chair her father had sat her in. When Hagrid came in she stood up shakily and this caught Remus's attention. Following his gaze, a look of dawning horror came over Tonks's face. Jem hurried out of the hospital wing, only just catching Hagrid saying something about moving Dumbledore's body. Tonks tried to catch Remus's eye as he went after Jem, but he refused to even look at her.

Remus caught up with Jem halfway down the corridor.

"How could you?" she said. "How _could _you?"

"Your mother..." he began.

"_Mum_? I mean how could you not _tell_me?"

"What?"

"No secrets, that's what you said. You said that even if we have to lie to everyone else, we don't have secrets from each other. But you didn't tell me you were seeing Tonks!"

She had started crying again and scrubbed furiously at her face, her voice sounded damp and hoarse.

"I'm not," he put his hands in his pockets and shifted the weight from one foot to the other, like an awkward schoolboy. "I'm not _seeing _her."

"You can't tell me nothing is going on, not after that in there!"

"It's my personal business, Jemima."

He said "Jemima" in a tone that brooked no argument, but she was furious and she felt suddenly and painfully alone in the world. Bill Weasley had been ripped to ribbons, her best friend could have died, she had long since broken up with her boyfriend and now Dumbledore was dead. That her father always told her the truth was the last certainty she had.

"I told you about George! I didn't want to, but I thought - well, Dad would want to know that we broke up and he would want to know I'm ok. And besides, we _don't_ keep secrets from each other. You said that you didn't know what was wrong with her! I asked if you knew. I said I hoped she'd be all right soon, because I liked Tonks. It's not that you just kept it from me - you _lied _to me!"

"I'm sorry for that, but as nothing was ever going to happen between Tonks and I -"

"Why?"

"What?" Remus frowned, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

"Why would nothing ever happen between you? You don't really believe that nonsense you said in there? 'Too old, too dangerous and too poor'?"

"Of course I meant it. It's true. I will not drag Tonks into that."

"You're none of those things! You're not even forty yet! And there's the Wolfsbane potion, you're always so careful. And as for money, there's plenty in Gringotts."

"That's yours," he replied stiffly, not meeting her eye. "That's the Blake money."

"Ours," she retorted stubbornly. He dropped his head and shook it slowly from side to side.

"Now is not the time, Jemima. With Dumbledore - "he stopped and sank back against the wall and rubbed his hand over his face. It's just not important anymore."

She stepped forward, pulled his hand away from his face and held it tightly.

"Of course it is! Professor McGonagall was right. If _he_ wins, then this is the sort of thing he'll stop. You've _got _to have something to fight for."

"Tonks will... She'll move on. She'll find someone else. Someone better."

"Don't be daft; there isn't _any_one better than you. You're kind and you're really clever. You make fantastic eggy bread. And you're brave and you're thoughtful._ I_love you. Why shouldn't she?"

She hugged him suddenly. She hadn't hugged him in a very long time. She was a teenager; she'd had a boyfriend and a summer job and didn't go around hugging her father for no reason or submit to being tickled with delighted squeals. He felt like he hadn't held her in a very long time. She was now almost the exact height Griselda was when they married and he could tuck her head neatly under his chin. He held her close and rested his cheek on her hair.

"I'm really scared, Dad," she said quietly, after a moment. "Dumbledore..."

"I know. I'm scared too."

She pulled away, straightened his shirt then smoothed his hair.

"I'm going to see if Neville's all right."

He nodded and as she turned, they both noticed Tonks at the same moment, hovering awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."

Jem shrugged and swept past her.

"I think you two need to talk."

In the hospital wing, Neville had woken up and was sitting up, staring down at his clasped hands in his lap. She could tell from the pinkness of his face that he was trying not to cry. Her legs shook as she approached the bed and sat beside him.

"Ron said that Dumbledore…" Neville started, but he trailed off.

She had spent months holding back and trying not to touch him but now she put her arm around his waist and buried her face in the gap between his shoulder and neck. She heard his ragged gasp and knew he was now crying. She clutched him tighter and the realisation hit her like a sledgehammer. If she lost him it would break her heart.


	10. Coupling

**_Falling  
><em>****Chapter Ten: Coupling**

Author's Note: So, I'm using the books as my main source because they have so much more detail. However, I'm using the films for more visual stuff like in Chapter Four. I'm also totally visualising Matthew Lewis as Neville - he just is Neville for me.

* * *

><p>The wedding was to be a quiet affair and Jem suspected that Andromeda Tonks was not altogether impressed with her daughter's choice of husband. She tended not to linger in a room if Andromeda was the only other person in it, the air was too thick with disapproval for Jem's liking. But that made life rather difficult as Tonks had enthusiastically moved Remus and Jemima in. Neither felt particularly at home, though Ted seemed happy to have them.<p>

"You don't mind?" Tonks ask, for the umpteenth time, catching Jem's eye in the mirror as she fussed with her hair. It had been blonde, but was now hesitating somewhere between pink and red.

"Of course not," Jem said. "All I've ever wanted as for him to be happy. If you make him happy, then that's all that matters."

Tonks gave her a wide grin and swooped down on her, hugging her tightly.

"I'll go and see if Dad needs any help," Jem said, extricating herself.

Tonks sighed happily and sat on the bed with a dreamy smile on her face.

"I do love him, you know," she said as Jem opened the door to leave. "More than anything."

Jem nodded and slipped out, almost banging into Andromeda. The older woman put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

"Sorry, Mrs Tonks," Jem said quickly. "I was just going to see Dad."

"Your father is sharing a Firewhiskey with Ted," Andromeda said, nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Right, well I'll just…"

"Jemima?" Andromeda seemed to be struggling with herself, then offered Jem a small, but genuine smile. "As we are to be family, you can stop calling me Mrs Tonks."

Jem blinked in surprise.

"Oh. Thanks… Andromeda. And it's Jem really, not Jemima."

Andromeda's mouth twitched, perhaps she was reminded of her own daughter's dislike of her given name. She nodded and went into Tonks's room as Jem went downstairs.

Ted stood up almost immediately when Jem came in.

"Well, don't you look lovely!" he said and came over to kiss her on the cheek.

Remus looked up, a slightly bewildered expression on his face, as though he had no idea how he had got there. He stared at her for a long moment.

"You look like your mother," he said at last.

Ted glanced from one to the other, mumbled an excuse and left the room. Jem slid into a chair opposite Remus.

"You do love her, don't you, Dad?" she said suddenly.

"What?" he looked up from his steady contemplation of his Firewhiskey with an incredulous expression. "Of course I love her. I'm marrying her!"

"You could look happier about it."

"And you're as blunt as your mother too," he said wryly. "The thing is…"

"The thing is she loves you," Jem said loudly. "You love her. I love you both. So stop brooding over all that other nonsense. You know, I don't know how Mum managed to get you down the aisle if you were like this back then."

"I was younger then," he said, a rueful tone in his voice. "More reckless perhaps. And marriage to your mother taught me things…"

"What things?"

"It won't be easy."

Jem snorted, "I was never under the impression that marriage was easy anyway."

Remus put a hand across the table, taking hers.

"When did my little girl get so wise?"

* * *

><p>Jem hadn't had a proper conversation with George since they broke up, having managed only to see him in company, or avoid him completely. But she was sat alone at a table at Bill and Fleur's wedding, having dispatched Remus to dance with Tonks and when George slid into the seat opposite her she couldn't think of an excuse to leave.<p>

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

"Hello to you too."

He laughed and pulled his chair closer. She could see his ear now – or rather, the lack of it. Remus had told her about it and from a distance it didn't look too bad. But up close – there was something so wrong and so lopsided about that it made her stomach lurch. George heard her sharp intake of breath and grinned.

"Bet you still fancy me though, eh?" he said. "Ear or no ear."

"Oh shut up," she replied, pushing his arm.

"Make me," he got to his feet and held out his arms. "C'mon, heartbreaker, dance with me."

"Don't call me that," but she got to her feet and allowed him to lead her to the floor.

"How have you been?" she asked after a moment. "I mean, apart from your ear?"

"Fine. The shop's doing well. And you'd be surprised how a curse scar drives the ladies wild."

"Mmmm, sexy."

He grinned and pulled her closer, to avoid the oncoming tango of Luna and Xenophilius.

"I thought you'd be here with Neville, you know."

"Why?"

George rolled his eyes.

"Thought you might have got together by now."

She felt her face prickling as she remembered the last time she had seen Neville, on Platform 9 3/4, before they headed home for the summer. She remembered hugging him goodbye and feeling suddenly aware of her body and his. She had left hastily, not wanting him to catch the covetous look she had shot at his hands - so large and long-fingered and exceptionally clean for someone with such a love of Herbology.

"Neville and I are just friends."

George snorted and shook his head. He tightened his hold round her waist and took advantage of her confusion to spin her round so suddenly she almost stumbled.

"You dance better with him than with me."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He stared at her, "You really don't know, do you?"

"George, you're being more annoying than usual at the moment."

"He adores you," George said simply. "He always has. He looks at you like... Well, like I used to I s'pose," he faked a grimace, a pained smile. "And you needn't worry about me. I'll give you my blessing. Anything to see you happy."

She gave him a little shove and he laughed when he saw that she was blushing. When the song finished he kissed her cheek and gave her a wink as he sauntered over to Fleur's French cousins. He turned back to waggle a finger at her.

"Don't you go breaking his heart now."

* * *

><p>There was a soft tap at the bedroom door and Jem opened it as she carelessly tugged a t-shirt over her head. Neville had a tantalising glimpse of her pale stomach, the shadow of her navel, before she smoothed her t-shirt down and looked at him expectantly.<p>

"Gran sent a letter to your Dad," he said.

Jem jerked her head in what he supposed was acknowledgement and sat on the bed, with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up tight to her chest. She wrapped her arms about her legs and Neville hesitated in the doorway.

"She just thought he'd want to know you got here safely."

"Thanks," Jem said finally.

She had sent a letter that morning asking to come and stay before they went back to school and had arrived almost as soon as she had received the response. She hadn't yet given her reasons and Neville wondered if she was upset about Tonks being pregnant. She had seemed happy when she sent him the letter to tell him, but perhaps now she'd had time to think about it...

Neville went over to the window, peering out at the damp garden. As he did so he caught sight of a photograph on the bedside table. Picking it up, he saw that it was of Remus and Tonks' wedding. There they were, smiling, surrounded by Andromeda, Ted and Jem.

Jem was standing beside her father, smiling a little self-consciously. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear. She had heels on - he had never seen her in heels before, always just her boots or school shoes.

"You look -" he stopped as she looked sharply at him. He indicated the photo at he added, "lovely. You look lovely."

To his surprise she smiled and reached out a hand for the photograph. She rubbed her thumb over it and sighed.

"He ran away."

"Who?"

"Dad. He panicked when Tonks told him she was pregnant. I should have known, really. I knew he was worried but I thought it was just because of everything else. But he ran away. He went after Harry, actually. Asked him if he could go with them."

"He's gone with Harry?"

"No. Harry wasn't having it. So back he came, tail between his legs," she added, with a short, bitter laugh.

Neville stared at her, he had never known her to be callous.

"Jem…"

"I'm so _ashamed_ of him, Neville. He just left her to deal with it. He ran away, Neville. He left us," her voice broke a little. "He left me."

"But why?" Neville asked, sitting down beside her. "Why did he panic?"

"He said the baby might not be as lucky as I was. The baby might turn out more like him than I did and he couldn't bear it. I was so furious with him, I just couldn't stay in the same house," she shot him a little smile. "Thanks for having me."

"S'all right."

She ran her thumb over the photo of her father's face and asked, in a very quiet voice, "Do you think he thinks I came out wrong? High metabolism, a preference for raw meat, a quick temper at the full moon… Maybe he thinks I -"

"You're perfect," Neville breathed.

She lowered the photo and lifted her head slowly to stare at him. He was looking at her earnestly and she thought suddenly how lovely his eyes were, a delicate shade of hazel, framed by dark lashes. He placed his hand over her hand and smiled hesitantly. She glanced down. He had pushed the sleeves of his jumper up and she stared at his forearm. It was lean, lightly tanned and thick with hair on one side. But on the underside it was pale, hairless, vulnerable looking. She could see the green glow of his veins and the skin looked so soft that her fingers uncurled and inched towards his arm, wanting to stroke...

"He loves you," he said in a more normal voice.

And the moment was broken.


	11. Rebellion

_**Falling**_  
><strong>Chapter Eleven: Rebellion<strong>

Author's Note: Again, I'm taking a little moment from the film. I feel JKR would have approved of that moment.

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><p>On the Hogwarts Express, Jem and Ginny had huddled in a carriage with Neville and Luna and told them in low voices what had happened at the wedding.<p>

"So they've just gone?" Neville said. "But where?"

"No idea. Wherever Dumbledore told them to go, I suppose. Who knows how long it will take?"

Neville's hands fisted up on his knees and he stared out of the window for a long time. They sat in moody silence until the train ground to a halt and the Death Eaters climbed aboard, looking for Harry Potter. The four of them exchanged glances, their hands tightening on their wands.

As they wrenched open the door of their carriage, Jem felt her throat close up. Antonin Dolohov looked in, she recognised him from the front cover of the _Daily Prophet_ after he and the others escaped from Azkaban. He swept his eyes over the inhabitants of their carriage. Something in her expression must have caught his attention because he looked back at her, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

"Oi, loser," Neville said, a hard edge to his voice as he stood up and stepped in front of Jem. "He's not here."

Peering around Neville, she watched Dolohov sweep his eyes up and down Neville, sizing him up. She clutched the back of Neville's jacket and her hand crept into her pocket and closed around her wand. But Dolohov only curled his lip, snapped the door closed and swept away down the corridor.

Jem had turned away to watch out of the windows as the Death Eaters left. She felt as though she had been on the receiving end of the jelly legs jinx. She was finding it hard to swallow, as a solid hard ball seemed to have wedged in her throat. She slumped back in her seat and Neville lowered himself slowly down beside her. He sat very close; she could feel the warmth of his thigh through her jeans.

When the train lurched into motion again she realised that Ginny and Luna were looking at her curiously.

"That was Dolohov," she said hoarsely, shaking back her hair, finding their stares irritating.

They were none the wiser and Neville added for her, "He was one of the Death Eaters convicted of wiping out the Blake family."

"My mother's family," Jem said and felt Neville's hand clench over hers on the seat.

"We have to do something," he said fiercely. "We can't just sit around and wait for Harry. We're Dumbledore's Army, we have to make sure that we're ready when he comes back."

"Ready to what?" asked Luna.

"To fight."

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><p>The Gryffindor common room was quiet, the fire having almost burnt itself out and everyone having gone to bed. It was 1am and Jem was still curled in a chair, looking at the dying embers shifting quietly in the grate. Neville had stretched out on the sofa, tapping his fingers on his chest and looking at the ceiling. He was too tall for the sofa and his feet dangled over the arm.<p>

"I am a coward," she said after a moment.

"What?"

"If that had been Bellatrix Lestrange on that train, you would have cursed her before she had time to blink. All I could do was stare."

He swung his long body off the sofa and went to sit on the footstool at her feet, looking up at her.

"You don't know that he killed your mum."

"I know he killed some of them and they were all my family."

"I don't think you're a coward. It was a shock, that's all. Next time, you'll be ready."

She smiled at him, reaching down as though to touch his hair. His breath hitched in his throat, but she hesitated. Then just pushed his fringe back off his forehead.

"You're serious about Dumbledore's Army, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She nodded and leaned back, closing her eyes. He shifted the stool closer, so he could lean his head against the arm of her chair.

"You know what Hermione did?" she said after a moment. "She wiped her parents' memories and sent them off to Australia. To keep them safe. I remember thinking, when she told me, what a good idea that was."

"Who would you pack off to Australia if you could?" he asked quietly.

"Dad and Tonks, obviously. Then the baby would be safe too," she shifted in her chair and he looked up at her as she said, "And you too, of course."

"Me?"

She put her hand out again and this time didn't hesitate as she stroked his hair.

"You know you mean the world to me."

A log snapped in the fire and he jumped. She smiled sadly, got awkwardly out of the chair and went up to bed.

* * *

><p>They had always kept very little from each other. At the end of their third year, they revealed their final, most closely guarded, secrets to each other and since then there had been nothing between them. But in the first few weeks back at school, they began to keep secrets again. Neither discussed their nightmares, neither were aware that the other had any.<p>

But Neville was haunted by the idea that she might die. He remembered Sirius, a smile still on his face as he sank back through the Veil. And he saw it, over and over again, only it was her face he saw. Her smile frozen on her face, her dimples deep about her mouth, the light dimming rapidly from her eyes, her body slackening as it hit the floor. It was disgustingly irreversible.

He saw it every night and every morning there was a moment where he had to untangle dreams from reality and convince himself that it was just a dream. Sometimes it darted back into his mind when she smiled at him over breakfast. She always noticed the sudden stricken look on his face and he drew courage from her concern. When she asked if he was all right, reaching out to touch his hand, despite the image that was still sharp in his mind, his body always betrayed him and responded to her touch. She only had to brush against him and his skin prickled, alive with heat and a discomfort that was only quelled when he made an excuse to touch her again.

Jem, however, did not imagine that Neville might die, it didn't even occur to her. He had become so strong and brave that it did not seem to be a possibility. But in her dreams she began to revisit the Department of Mysteries, struggling with the brains on Ron's arms, then running after Neville. From the top of the Arch room, she once more saw Bellatrix Lestrange torturing him. She heard the screams, she saw the way his body bucked and twisted and she ran down to him, tripping over and landing heavily on her bony knees. Over time, the dreams dispensed with build-up and cut right to the torture. She spent her nights watching him writhe and howl and woke every morning breathless with terror.

She didn't tell him any of this, but whenever she saw him glower at the Carrows', she felt an ominous shudder. Whenever he was punished, even when they were punished together, she took charge of the healing, despite his protests.

She could now admit to herself that she liked to touch him, for any reason possible. These days her body responded to even a smile from him, but when she touched him, every cell in her body strained toward him. She could almost hear her own body moaning in longing.

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><p>Snape was fascinated by the change in Neville Longbottom. Over time he came to have a grudging respect for him. Who would have thought that tubby little boy, so easily frightened by just a glare from his Potions master, would turn out as he had. He no longer carried his height hunched over, but upright. He was no longer silent in lessons, but astonishly forthright. Whenever he felt Snape's eyes on him at mealtimes, Neville returned the gaze with a hint of scorn that Snape almost found amusing.<p>

Snape found himself particularly interested in the subtle changes developing between Neville and Jemima Lupin. They had always been inseparable, best friends from the moment they entered the school. Snape had been uncomfortably reminded on several occasions over the years, when he noticed Neville staring at Jem with a worshipful, dog-like devotion, of himself and Lily all those years ago. But Jem, as Lily before her, had fallen for the flashier charms of another, in her case, George Weasley. Not that Snape pitied Neville at all. At least Weasley had had talent.

But he noticed that Jem and Neville sat much closer together at meals now. Neville generally sat one hand braced protectively on the bench behind her. Snape had even spotted them swapping shy, almost awkward smiles. Several of their punishments had been because they had tried to save each other from the cruelty of the Carrows'.

When Snape caught them in his office, trying to steal the sword of Gryffindor, along with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Neville had immediately stepped to the front of the group, pressing the girls back behind him. Jem though, had stepped up to stand at his side, one hand tight on her wand, the other gripping his elbow.

Snape couldn't help but wonder, leaning against the window in his office as he watched them enter the Forest, whether this time, the boy might actually get the girl.


	12. Hereafter

**_Falling_**  
><strong>Chapter Twelve: Hereafter<strong>

Neville could not look away when, in the pause in the battle, she fell upon the lifeless body of her father and howled. As she knelt between the bodies of Remus and Tonks, the wreck of her family, their hands clutched in hers, he knew he would never forget that moment. He knew then that he would do everything he could to make it all right for her, to comfort her and to keep her safe from feeling such devastation ever again. That is when he knew what he meant when he said he loved her.

Jemima would never forget the moment when Neville rushed forward and defied Voldemort. She would never forget how she felt in that moment, as though someone had grasped her viscerally and was ripping her very insides from her. Nor would she forget how he stood, so straight and still, the Sorting Hat aflame on his head before he pulled the sword and swung it. She hadn't known until then that pride could be such a _violent_ emotion.

That they had both survived felt like a miracle. Only hours before she had thought they were invincible.

They had daubed the walls of Hogwarts – _Dumbledore's Army, Still recruiting – _and she had charmed a radio to blare Muggle music throughout the school every night. They had grasped hands and danced around the Gryffindor common room to Muggle bands called Take That and East 17, knowing if they were caught that they would be punished. They had bunked down in the Room of Requirement. They had followed the progress of the war through Potterwatch and the scraps of any papers they could get their hands on, though the _Quibbler_ had been long since banned. But death had seemed so distant, even when they heard that Ted Tonks had died, it had seemed – unreal. It could never happen to them.

But reality smashed into them the night of the Battle of Hogwarts – reality delivered in the cold bodies of her family, the cries of the Weasleys' over Fred, the flare of fire about Neville's head.

Now, looking back at that night, it was incredible that they had both survived all of that.

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><p>His Gran came to see them at Andromeda's. It was still early in the day and Jem was stroking her fingers through Teddy's blue hair, watching Andromeda warily as Neville clattered about making tea. Andromeda had returned from the school an hour before, her expression pinched. She had not said a word to either of them. When the doorbell rang, Neville scrambled to answer it. Andromeda's ashen expression did not change. Looking slightly bewildered, Neville led his Grandmother into the kitchen. She seemed to take in the situation at once and Jem stared in astonishment at the suddenly tender look on the formidable old lady's face.<p>

"I'm sure you two could do with some fresh air," Augusta said pointedly and they nodded and scurried out.

"I came to offer my condolences," they heard Augusta say as the door closed. "I lost my own son and daughter-in-law in the first war..."

They sat in the front garden, Teddy growing grizzly from lack of sleep and hunger. Jem bounced him in her arms and Neville conjured violet bubbles from the end of his wand, managing to entertain him for a few moments. But then there was a sudden cry from the kitchen, sharp as a snapped twig and Jem's lip trembled as Neville darted forward and wrapped his arms about her and the baby.

Augusta Longbottom paused on the doorstep to pull on her gloves. She saw the three of them at the bottom of the garden, her grandson's arms about that slender little girl who had been so terrified of her that first summer. They drew apart when they heard her coming. Augusta bent over slightly to look at the chubby little boy in Jem's arms.

"Take him to his grandmother," she advised. "He'll take better care of her than anyone else."

Jem nodded and hurried back into the house. There was a moment of silence between Augusta and Neville.

"I've asked Jem to meet my Mum and Dad," he said softly after a moment. Augusta turned sharply to look at him, eyebrows raised in incredulity.

"Really?" she said and fiddled with her handbag. "Well. And what did she say?"

"She said she'd like to meet them. I -" she saw him blush and avert his eyes before meeting her gaze with a challenging sort of look. "I love her, Gran."

Augusta felt her face collapse into an easy smile and she put her bony hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze.

"Oh, I know, my boy. I know."

Jem had come back and was nervously tugging the sleeves of her jumper over her hands.

"Do you think she'll be all right, Mrs Longbottom? I don't know what to do..."

"She will be well enough, in time. As will you, my dear girl." Jem blinked hard and did not answer. "Neville tells me that you are to meet his parents, Jemima."

"Oh. Yes. I am."

Jem's hand fluttered uncertainly at her side and Neville seized it with a fiercely protective look that made Augusta's heart swell.

"I will go with you."

"No," Neville said firmly and Augusta almost jumped in surprise. "No, Gran. Thanks, but I'd like to take just Jem. If you don't mind."

The tone of his voice made it quite clear that she didn't really have a say in the matter. She studied Jem through narrowed eyes. She was such a wisp of a thing, even more thin after those months of rebellion, her eyes larger than usual above her hollowed cheeks. Neville put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. Augusta's lips thinned. Her little boy had grown up and away from her. She blinked hard and nodded.

"Very well. As you wish, Neville. I am returning to Hogwarts, there is much to be done."

She nodded curtly and strode down the path, Disapparating just beyond the garden gate.

"That went well," Neville said lightly. "We should probably check on Mrs Tonks."

"Yes..." Jem said faintly. "And maybe we should... Maybe we should go back to Hogwarts too."

"Really? You want to?"

"Someone's got to put the old place back together. And seeing as we had a hand in smashing it up..."

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><p>The next day they picked their way over the debris to the great front doors. Minerva McGonagall drafted them in immediately to help with the clean up.<p>

"We will open again, as always, on the first of September," she said briskly, handing them brooms and waving them off towards the greenhouses.

The idea that the shattered school could be righted in two months seemed beyond them, but they went anyway. Professor Sprout greeted Neville with something like relief – she needed help to rescue what plants she could. She hesitated when she saw Jem, who could kill a plant with just a look of interest.

"Well, perhaps you could just clear those that are beyond saving?" she asked and stepped in front of the Tentacula as though shielding it from Jem's talent for destruction.

Jem nodded and set to work. She enchanted the brooms to sweep up the glass, following behind with a sack, whisking up the destroyed plants with her wand. Beneath the blackened remains of a plant burnt beyond recognition, something else quivered.

She looked over her shoulder, but Neville and Sprout were engrossed in conversation, wrapping bandages around the weeping trunk of a Venomous Verbena. Jem levitated the debris and crouched down to study what she had found.

"Neville," she called. "Neville, come here. You won't believe it!"

He hurried over and looked at what she was pointing at. Professor Sprout puffed up behind them,

"Well, blow me," she said.

"It's your Mimbulus Mimbletonia!" Jem said. "The one you bred in fifth year."

Neville knelt down to right the pot and ran his eyes over the plant. The plant shivered under his touch, almost as though in pleasure.

"It's fine," he said in awe. "Not a scratch on it."

When he looked up, Jem was smiling. Pomona Sprout glanced at one, then the other and crept away.

"We're going to be ok, aren't we?" Jem said, sinking down beside him and sounding almost mystified as she stared at the plant he was carefully tending.

"Yes," he said, standing up. When he reached for her she smelt the rich dampness of peat on his fingers and thought suddenly of the Amortentia in sixth year Potions. He stroked her hair, leaving dirty trails in it. "Yes, we'll be all right. Always."

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><p><strong><em>The End.<em>**

Author's Note: I felt I had to end on "Always" because it's such a powerful word in the Potterverse. Says it all really.


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